The Devil's in the Details
by BlackBlood1872
Summary: A Harry Potter story collection, made up of the small things I manage to write. Features a bunch of genres, but mainly humor. Updates sporadically
1. The Devil's in the Details

_The Devil's in the Details_

* * *

"Good morning class!" the black haired man called jovially from the front of the classroom. He was grinning, leaning against his desk and had his long black hair tied into a low ponytail. Once everyone was closer to him, the ones in the first few rows could see that his eyes were red. Harry cringed slightly and the man's eyes locked on him.

"You would be Harry Potter, yes?" the man asked and Harry nodded, though he kind of didn't want to. The teacher smiled at him, "I look forward to the present you'll be sending me in the future."

"What?" Harry blinked, confused. The man just gave him a secretive smile before addressing the rest of the students.

"I know most of you haven't seen me before," he started, leaning back on his hands and scanning the group of seventh years. "I wasn't at the feast to be introduced, unfortunately. While I will be teaching here, I still have my old job and I was... busy, when I should have been in the school. This will happen again, but don't worry!" he grinned, his teeth slightly pointier than normal, "I already have arrangements for a substitute during those times. You'll meet him then.

"I'm all sure you want to know my name, so I suppose I'll tell you. My name is Lucifer. It's a _pleasure_," the word was purred and most of the students shivered, "to meet you."

The muggle born and raised all paled. Hermione raised her hand slowly and he waved a hand in her direction. She swallowed before speaking, her voice somehow steady. "You wouldn't happen to be..." she broke off. "I mean, that name has... connotations."

Now his grin was positively gleeful, "As, yes, it is known, isn't it? Quite right, it's true. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"You mean..." another muggleborn whispered, eyes wide.

"Oh yes," Lucifer agreed, looking very satisfied with himself. Draco growled slightly.

"What are you talking about?" he barked, glaring around the room. Most purebloods were in similar straits and they were all frowning.

"You pure ones wouldn't know, would you?" their teacher mused. "Pity. It takes the fun out of it, but oh well. I'll have to explain.

"Lucifer is the name I much prefer and is the one I had before I fell. Now, most like to call me Satan or the Devil. I am the King of Hell." He smiled pleasantly at all the students, who were all pale. "My sub is a very good friend of mine, but please don't be alarmed when you meet him. He knows not to harm you."

"And who would this be?" a Slytherin in the back asked. Lucifer shook his head.

"Ah, ah, ah. You'll have to wait until he arrives. It would ruin the surprise if I told you now."

Harry had a very bad feeling about that.

Then again, if fake-Moody had been a good teacher, maybe _the King of Hell_ would be too. Hopefully neither him or his substitute would try to kill Harry.

* * *

_A/N: Here have another story collection because one of my friends coerced me into it. Not really, but still. Because apparently I'm funny._


	2. Dark Horse

_Dark Horse_

* * *

One day in the middle of October, a different man stood at the front of their Defense classroom. He was seated behind the desk, an act that the students had only seen a few times from Luke (as some students had taken to calling him), and was watching them all with a blank face. Several students fidgeted in their seats as they waited for either an explanation or the class to begin.

Harry suspected this was the man Lucifer had told them to expect, and felt his dread grow. It didn't help matters that there was... _something_ about this man that his magic was reacting to.

Harry tried not to panic. He wasn't sure how successful he was.

"Good afternoon," the man said, voice uncomfortably loud in the silence of the room. "Your usual teacher should have mentioned the possibility of his absence, so having a substitute shouldn't come as that large of a surprise." The man smirked then, leaning back in his chair. Several students shifted uneasily. "I requested that he keep my identity a secret; since none of you have fled in terror, I imagine he did so."

Harry swallowed heavily. Flee in terror?

"I have many names," the man continued blithely, ignoring the growing tension in the room. "But please, call me Death; that's my favorite."

Someone whimpered. Death just smirked.

* * *

_A/N: part two to the first chapter. Anything else I write for this AU is going to be part of a set I call "Death and the Devil".  
_


	3. Lupus Lunar

_Werewolves on the Moon _or_ Lupus Lunar_

[Marauder's era]

* * *

"What happens if you put a Werewolf on the moon?" was the first thing out of Sirius' mouth that morning, once he'd eaten enough food and drank enough coffee (illegally gotten through consorting with the house-elves) to wake up.

Remus choked on the muffin he'd been eating.

James lifted his head, squinting tiredly at Sirius. "He'd explode and die because there's no oxygen on the moon," he said dryly.

Sirius gaped at him. "We never said we'd send him up without a suit, you absolute _monster_," he managed to say, voice hoarse.

Remus gave up on trying to eat, glancing around nervously to see if anyone was hearing this. Except for Peter, who looked like he didn't know if he was going to laugh or join Sirius in gaping at James, no one seemed to be paying the four any attention. Most of them looked as dead on their feet as James did, given how it was Monday morning, and the first day of classes after Winter Break. Remus didn't blame anyone for wanting to continue sleeping in.

"And how would we be getting this suit thing then?" James asked, plunking his elbow on the table and dropping his head into his hand. With his other hand, he absently shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth.

"We'll lift it off whatever muggle company is making them," Sirius said simply, as if he wasn't considering theft and other illegal activities. "We'd have to Confund or Obliviate them after, but we know those spells and I think we could manage it."

"Pads, unless your future goal is to join the rest of your family in jail, I don't think that's a good idea," James muttered.

"_None_ of this is a good idea," Remus finally managed to say, voice somewhat strangled. Sirius just beamed at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Ah Moony, don't be such a downer. It's not like we'd _actually_ be able to get to the moon to put you there. This is all theoretical."

"You should still _stop saying these things_," Remus hissed, glancing around the hall again. Across from them, Peter shrugged.

"You have to admit that nobody ever listens to us," he pointed out. "Unless we're huddled together, discussing our new prank, they think we're harmless or insane."

"That's not helping," Remus protested weakly, though he knew the blond was right. They were _suspicious_ when they planned in the Great Hall. Every other time, the topics Sirius and James brought up were so ludicrous that no one ever took them seriously when they overheard.

Still. Remus liked to have his_ furry little problem_ brought up as little as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

_Title? No clue  
__Genre? Also no clue. Some humor though, if only because of the "wth is this" aspect.  
__Characters: Harry P. &amp; Death_

* * *

Harry woke all at once, eyes blinking open to stare at a white expanse.

He blinked some more. He could have _sworn_ that his ceiling was a dark blue.

Harry sat up, palms flat against the floor as he looked around. He wasn't in his bed. Hell, he wasn't even in his _house_ anymore. He was pretty sure he wasn't _anywhere_.

The white expanse he thought had replaced his ceiling had replaced everything else as well. There were no walls or floors or shadows. Just... white.

"Where am I?" Harry wondered, voice quiet and also not echoing as he'd half hoped it would.

"I can answer that," another voice that wasn't his responded from behind him. Harry lurched to his feet, spinning and backing away from whoever it was who'd snuck up on him.

The tall, darkly clothed figure chuckled at him, leaning precariously against the giant scythe in his grip. His cowl covered the majority of his face, except for his jaw, which was shadowed enough that Harry couldn't tell what color his skin was, but suspected it was darker than his own. The cloak the man wore hid him completely and was rather shocking against the white backdrop.

After letting Harry observed him, the man straightened, scythe shrinking until it wasn't any more than a meter long. Then he said, with a flourish: "Congratulations, you have died!"

Harry blinked.

"I'm pretty sure those two phrases don't go together," he said dryly. The man chuckled, sounding remarkably like healthier Dementor. Harry shivered.

"Oh, they don't?" he asked. "Well, I must have missed the memo."

"Uh-huh," Harry muttered. He looked around again, but the surroundings were just as white and blank as they were three minutes ago. He looked back at his companion, raising an eyebrow.

The figure chuckled and mimed hitting his forehead. "That's right; you had a question. And I never introduced myself, did I?

"This," the man spread his arms to encompass the white void, "is Limbo. And _I_," a sharp toothed smile blossomed under a hint of glowing red eyes and Harry took another step back, "am Death."

Harry had expected that, really. It was still hard to correlate this being's personality with what he'd thought an embodiment of Death acted like.

He had the creepiness factor down though, Harry mused as he watched Death grin and twirl his baton-like scythe. His cloak was swirling around his ankles in a breeze that only existed next to the fabric.

"As you can guess," Death spoke up again and Harry twitched, "and as I shall reiterate, _you have died_. It was a good life you had, I'm sure. Lovely wife, cute kids, pleasant enough job. But that has all come to an end, and now you're _here,_" Death sighed dramatically. His lips quirked into a mocking smile, "_Here_, in Limbo, because of something you don't even recall doing, isn't that right Mr Potter?"

Harry didn't respond. Death sighed again.

"You recall, in the forest when you were killed for the second time?" Death asked rhetorically. "The reason you survived was _not_, in fact, because the Horcrux died in your place. Don't get me wrong," he hastened to add, even though Harry hadn't tried to interrupt, "it _did_, but that wasn't why you woke up again. You lived because, at that moment in time, you were the Master of Death. You owned all my little trinkets, didn't you? Even if you didn't have my Wand in your possession, it was still yours.

"It still is yours," Death said, almost to himself. Harry tensed, eyes widening. Death grinned again. "Oh yes, you own my Wand as you do the Stone and the Cloak. My little trinity, my Hallows. And that makes you my Master."

Harry was frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Master of Death? Oh yeah, he could work with that. He wasn't nearly old enough to be dead, right? Only in his fifties – that was pretty young for a Wizard. He could go back, like he had when he was seventeen; just wake up like this never happened and continue. Right?

"You have a few options on how to proceed, since you died my Master," Death said, twirling his scythe from one hand to the other. Harry jerked at that and opened his mouth to suggest something but Death spoke before he could: "Unfortunately, you can't go back in time or anything like that. Time runs in a straight line and all that jazz."

Harry slumped. But he could still–

"You have three options," the being stated, lifting three fingers. "One, you can go on to whatever place you'll go after Judgement." He curled down one finger. "Two, you can stay on Earth as a ghost, free to haunt whatever you wish." Only one finger remained, and Death pointed it at Harry. "Or, three, you can be reincarnated."

A strange look crossed Harry's face, and he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Could I be reincarnated with my memories?" he wondered. Death shrugged.

"Yeah, sure, if only because you're my Master and I'd have to give you some leeway. But your first few years would be hella tedious."

Harry scrunched up his face, wondering if he'd heard right. "_Hella tedious"? Maybe I'm not dead, I'm just high. __Maybe George slipped me one of his new products._

"You could... lock them until I was older," Harry suggested. "Like, maybe four? Four sounds like a good year."

"I could..." Death considered it, tilting his head to the side, tapping his lips with the scythe. Harry winced. "Would you like them all at once, or over time?"

Harry considered. Over time would let him get used to them and integrate his new personality – what little a four year old would have – into his past life. But that would be confusing as all Hell.

"All at once," Harry decided. At least that way he'd know why he wanted to have all his memories, if only for selfish personal reasons. He didn't know what type of life he'd have, what kind of family he'd grow up with this time. But he never wanted to forget the Weasleys, even if he grew up happy in his next life.

Death nodded. "Alrighty then. Past life memories at age four. I can work that. Anything else you want to know before I kick you out?"

"Um." Harry blinked. "Do you know where I'll be born?"

"Anywhere on the damn planet," Death said flatly. Harry really didn't know how to respond to this. "You'll probably be in a first world country though. You'll still have black hair and green eyes – those are locked into your spiritual code. It's likely that you'll keep your scar too. Sowilo is a rune that doesn't give up its hold once its got one. And you'll always be magical, with all the little things that entails.

"You'll be cycled through quickly too, since you have a say in your reincarnation," Death continued with a shrug. "So if you wanted to go bug your kids once you're old enough, you could. Go to school with your grandkids or something. It'd be crazy."

Harry nodded, seeing the humor in that. Especially if he had his memories. It would also get old pretty quick, so maybe he'd 'coincidentally' spend only his summers in Britain.

Death clapped his hands, an action that both brought Harry's attention back to him and opened a swirling, black portal that looked way too ominous for whatever its purpose was. "Enough of this. You've got a timestream to reenter. Best be going." And just like that, Death vanished into thin air, the dark portal rapidly expanding to fill the space around him.

_Thank Merlin_, Harry thought. It was his last thought as himself for four more years.

* * *

_(What the hell is this? Oops, I wrote something? Just a thought, that apparently is worth 12 hundred words. And, as my catchphrase seems to be: here, have a thing. I might continue it. But probably not.)_


End file.
